


Wanted

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Philinda AU Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wants him to be part of something he doesn't believe in. He wants to bring down the bad people in the world in the name of justice. Can Phil Coulson let himself get involved with a woman who is everything he stands against?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Philinda AU. Mob Boss/Special Agent, for the Philinda AU challenge. Enjoy!

She was at the bar when he walked in- long, tanned legs and feet strapped into shoes so black they were nearly lost in the shadows. He'd first noticed the pearls around her neck, glistening under the light that shone from behind a display of liquor bottles and polished glasses, and when she'd turned her face in his direction he remembered wondering if she'd noticed him staring. If she'd laughed at him from behind her own glass, full of sparkling pink and twists of lemon as yellow as the sun.

“Melinda May.” She sipped casually from the glass before setting it down, offering a hand that he took in his as he slid up onto a stool at her side. “It's a pleasure. I've heard so much about you.”

“How do you know that I'm-”

“My people are very resourceful, Mr. Coulson. I knew what you had for breakfast this morning before you paid your bill. Raisin toast isn't something most people order these days.” He couldn't take his eyes off of her, though he was unsure as to whether it was the way she filled the cowl-necked navy blue dress she wore, or the way her voice held a slight edge to it even as she spoke such innocuous sentences. “I've been told you have certain skills in your repertoire I may find useful, and I was hoping we may come to a mutual agreement regarding your particular skill set.”

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about.” He waved at the bartender, gestured to a bottle of scotch on the shelf and nodded as it was poured into a glass and pushed in his direction.

“Scotch on the rocks. I had a feeling you were a man of simple tastes.” May sipped again from her glass and he watched as her lipstick stained the edge, darkening a preexisting smudge. Something in his mind triggered the image of her, naked in his bed, and with it he could see the same lipstick smudged in perfect red prints along his arm as he pulled her close. He wondered if she would go to bed with him, eventually, or if someone like Melinda May would ever even consider such a thing. She was powerful, the head of a family no ordinary man wanted to cross, and he knew as well as anyone she could rule the world if she tried.

“It doesn't pay to be complicated,” He replied, and she smiled.

“Your life certainly indicates that you lean away from any complication, yourself.” Her fingers tapped the bar top steadily, a rhythm his brain connected to classic rock, in concert with the faint sound of 'Runaway Train' playing somewhere from within the dim space. “Let me get to the point, Mr. Coulson. I control a certain...aspect...of the city, and I have an interest in quite a few areas that I feel would benefit from my influence. You're the agent heading several key investigations for the bureau, and I feel that your skill set could be somewhat of an asset for me.”

“I don't see how, Miss...”

“Please,” She smiled again, white teeth suddenly predatory behind the perfect red lips. “Call me Melinda. Or May, if you prefer. We don't need to stand on ceremony, Coulson. I think we could be friends, you and I.”

“As I was saying, I don't think I can be of much help.”

“That's where I think you may be wrong.” Her fingers slid through his, tangled into them and squeezed seductively. He wondered if that was how she managed to keep the men in her employ under control; or if she used it as a front, had means at her disposal to take them all down in a single move. Women like Melinda May, he'd learned, were dangerous in that they were underestimated. “Mr. Coulson- Phil- the targets of your investigations are a certain brand of people who control parts of this city I'd very much like to place under my protection. For their own safety, you understand, and the people you hunt possess funds that currently keep their controlling interests afloat. Were those funds to find their way into my hands...an opportunity would open up that I feel I'd have to take advantage of. And I hate to see a missed opportunity. That's where you'd come in.”

“I don't think I can help you.”

“Now, Phil.” The hand dropped to his knee, and fingers that had once felt smooth and delicate in his own were now a vice, squeezing his kneecap firmly beneath them. In his imagination he could feel it crack, could hear the sound of splintering bone as she crushed it beneath an iron grip. But she smiled again, loosened the fingers and slipped her hand up his thigh to gently caress the soft cotton of his pantleg. “I'd like to ask you to consider it, to open your mind to the benefits an arrangement like this might bring to both of us. Just...promise you'll think about it and get back to me.”

He swallowed the rest of the scotch with a grimace, felt it burning his throat even as her steady gaze burned into the side of his face, and he wondered how easily she might destroy him. He hadn't known, when he'd walked in without expectation, that the anonymous e-mail he'd received promising information would be from someone who could turn his life upside down with just a nod of her head in the right direction.

“I'm not the kind of man you're looking for, May. And I'm afraid you'll be going home alone tonight.” He told himself he hadn't misinterpreted the gestures, hadn't misunderstood the way her eyes had shifted from his face to travel downward. The image of her splayed across his fresh cotton sheets still played itself out in his mind, though as he'd become aware of her intentions he'd tried his best to keep the thoughts at bay. In a different world he might have gone with her, might have brought her to his home and taken her to bed with the intention of waking up beside her in the morning. But the head of a mob family was dangerous, and to become involved with her in any way was a risk to his career he wasn't willing to take.

“Good night...Melinda.” She lifted her glass and toasted him silently, eyes unblinking as he began to turn away. He caught sight of her reflection in the glass by the door and for a moment felt like prey, until he passed over the threshold and the door closed between them.

Even as he stood in the cool New York evening, Phil Coulson wondered if it was the last time he would hear from Melinda May. Or if it was the last time he wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after his first meet with Melinda May, Coulson discusses the situation with a colleague and reflects on what his next move should be.

“How'd it go?” Heading into the FBI field office the next morning had been the usual routine. Stopping for coffee and croissants at Audrey's had yielded an atypical flirtatious banter from Audrey herself- and Coulson found himself in a better mood than he'd been in weeks as he pushed his way through his office door. Antoine Triplett waited in the visitors chair, and Phil tossed his fellow agent a crisp pastry before settling behind his desk. “Your meet with the CI. Come on, man- did he give you anything?”

“She. And no, she didn't have any particular leads.” He'd thought about her for longer than he'd wanted after reaching his apartment well after dark, lying beneath the thick blankets and picturing the mysterious Melinda May doing the same. What sort of apartment did she keep for herself? Or did she keep a house, tucked away on the outskirts of the city- where she could enjoy the type of privacy a woman in her position often craved? Was she thinking about him the way he was thinking about her, fingers gently pushing deep inside of her with the same desperation he felt as his fingers tugged at his throbbing penis? His cries had been muffled as he'd bitten hard against his pillow, and as his heartbeat filled his ears he'd imagined her voice, throaty and breathless as it called his name.

He shook his head again, drank deep of espresso and foam even as Trip bit into a flaky croissant, grinning.

“What? So it was a woman.”

“A woman who has you looking like you got the best night's sleep you've ever had.” Crumbs freckled the lapel of his navy blue jacket and he brushed them off, eyes on Coulson. “Out with it, Phil. Did you sleep with her? Is that why you're in such a good mood this morning?”

“I stopped at Audrey's. Why do you think you got a croissant this time? Audrey was flirting- I flirted back. That's what's responsible, Trip- not some late night booty from a CI I just met.” The last dregs of espresso were gone, and Coulson tossed the to-go cup into his trash bin, listening to the clang as it struck the metal sides. “Last night was a dead end- I don't expect her to be useful in my investigation.”

“Too bad. I have a meeting with a CI of my own today- looks like we might have a clue on the FitsSimmons op. A way to smoke them out this time. It's amazing how easy it is for two science nerds to be distracted.” They hadn't expected criminal masterminds, and even Coulson had been impressed at the way the two former MIT grads had been able to orchestrate a meth operation that spanned the better part of the southern United States. Trip had gladly accepted the role of Special Agent in Charge, and even as he'd plastered his own office walls with photos of the duo Coulson had pointed out the overzealous amount of photos in which Simmons was the sole subject. “He was an associate in the early stages of the meth lab- chemistry partner with Jemma Simmons herself. I think he may know more than he realizes.”

“Whatever he knows, make sure you get him in protective custody as soon as you can. No reason to believe Simmons isn't on to him already. If you found him, so could she.” He wondered how easily Melinda May could find him again- he hadn't believed for a second that she was done with him, the more he thought about their conversation and the way her hand had crept so very easily up his pantleg. She'd started to lean in- he could still smell her perfume among the lingering scents of the bar- and as he thought about it he realized she'd brought him into a place that she didn't often frequent herself. There had been no signs of familiarity, no men in dark suits that hovered nearby waiting to strike if things got out of hand. No, Melinda May had taken him to neutral ground, and as he stared at the open folders on his desk without seeing, Coulson began to wonder if her major intention had been to simply _meet_ him, and her secondary goal had been to bring him into the business.

“Yeah, well, I never underestimate a pretty face, and Simmons won't be an exception. Maybe you should rethink  _your_ CI. She might have more information than you think.” Trip polished off his snack and brushed his hands against the chair, grinned as Coulson glared at him. “You need new chairs, man. I'm just trying to encourage you to fill out those requisition forms.”

“I get new chairs, I get more visitors. Get out- I need to get these cases filed before I meet with SAC Sitwell.” He watched as his friend gave a jaunty wave from beyond the glass doors, flipped opened the file folders that littered his desk and began to review cases he'd promised to complete before his meeting with Sitwell later that day. But even as he tried to keep his mind on drug cartels and money laundering... his thoughts kept drifting back to May, and the need to know if Trip was right. If she really  _did_ have more information than he thought, or if she might just be useful in other ways.


End file.
